


See Me (Like I Do)

by GoldenTruth813



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Chubby Neville, F/M, M/M, body acceptance, body issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 09:59:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13656657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813
Summary: Neville is comfortable with who he is, but sometimes he isn't so sure about everyone else.





	See Me (Like I Do)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you aibidil for the beta! <3

“There are new wizarding robes, to help hide that,” his Gran tells him, pointing to his stomach and nodding her head as if it were obvious. Neville is nineteen and attending the one-year commemoration of the end of the War. The Minister of Magic wants to give him a medal, wants Neville to stand in front of hundreds of witches and wizards and praise his bravery.

Neville can’t quite understand why the size of his tummy has somehow become more important than the size of his courage.

When Neville is twenty he kisses Hannah Abbott on a warm Spring day at the end of April. She tastes like sunshine and ice mice and her hair is impossibly soft. When she pulls back she smiles at Neville, but it doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

“You’re wonderful, Neville, really.” The but is unspoken and sits heavy in the air. Three weeks later they break up politely over a pint and shepherds pie and the weight of Hannah’s confession,  _ “I’m not attracted to you, Neville, I’m so sorry,” _ clings to his skin, as suffocating as the perfume she’d worn.

“You have such a lovely heart, Neville,” Ginny tells him on his twenty-first birthday. Neville smiles, reaching for another butterbeer and wondering why people feel the need to remind him of his good attributes out of nowhere. Sometimes it feels as if people must think Neville still thinks he’s worth less than everyone else, as if the extra weight he carries around the middle somehow negates everything else about him, as if they need to remind him that he’s worth love.

Neville’s known his worth for a long time, he just wishes everyone else knew it too.

He tries not to take it personally. He knows his friends mean well. They want him to know he’s special, that he’s important. 

It’s just that Neville can’t help but notice no one reminds Harry that he has a good heart, no one reminds Luna that she’s got a gentle soul and no one reminds Ginny that she’s lovely. He wonders sometimes if they secretly see his body before his heart too, if their need to assure Neville his weight doesn’t matter somehow shows how very much it does.

When Neville is twenty-two, he resigns himself to the fact that he has everything in life he needs. He has a quiet flat with a lovely patio that gets just the right amount of sunshine for his plants, he’s got an apprenticeship with Professor Sprout and he’s got friends. Neville likes who he is, and thinks that maybe it's about time he stops worrying if everyone else does too.

Neville knows he’s a bit like a plant. People look for the flowers first, for the prettiest aspects of the plant. They don’t see the complexity of its roots, they don’t ask what the plant brings to the ecosystem or what potions it’s good for. They judge it on its looks, but the plants don’t stop growing and the flowers don’t stop blooming. They grow the way they were always meant to, regardless of how people see them.

Neville likes that about plants, likes that no matter how anyone sees them, nothing can change them at their core.

It’s not until Neville is twenty-four, until Harry’s strong hands are sliding beneath his jumper whispering “You’re beautiful,” that Neville doesn’t wait for the  _ but  _ to come. He lets Harry’s strong hands move across his body, accepts the praise without waiting for the qualifier.

Neville closes his eyes and tries not to cry as Harry’s lips mouth over the soft stretch marks along the top of his thigh. Harry worships him, seeking out every inch of flesh and flab on his body as if it were a prized possession, as if he were the lucky one, being allowed to touch Neville. And Neville closes his eyes and lets him, closes his eyes and submits. Because this he thinks, this is love. 

And when Neville opens his eyes, he sees the way Harry looks at him reverently. Neville knows that Harry sees him the way he sees himself, as if he is perfect, as if he is whole - as if the sum of all his parts are as flawless separately as they are together.


End file.
